


It really meant nothing

by Sobbingoverboys



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blowjobs, Cell setting, Even if it's badly written, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Meaningless smut, No storyline here, Smut though, don't hate me, handjobs, i'm a bad person, probably really ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sobbingoverboys/pseuds/Sobbingoverboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras ends up in the cells after a protest, he meets someone there. Shit goes down. I'm an asshole.</p><p>*I wrote this while extremely tired so I'm sorry*</p>
            </blockquote>





	It really meant nothing

“What you in here for Princess?”

The cell was cold, smelled of damp and Enjolras couldn’t see through one eye as it was currently swollen and he assumed some of the warmth was blood. He had seen better protests but he was still pleased with the turnout of this one, they were finally being heard. Of course, he didn’t fully see the result as, when the police came in force, he was knocked unconscious long before anyone else. Inspector Javert apparently wanted him out of the picture before he could start any real trouble, the sly bastard. One minute he was picking up his megaphone to begin rallying the crowd and the next he was waking up here.

He didn’t turn from where he was looking at a rather suspicious looking stain on the wall when he answered. “The law refused to hear my voice in a dignified manner.”  
The other boy made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, he clearly didn’t have any interest in protests. His loss Enjolras mused, he found himself surrounded by men who had no real passion lately. He definitely didn’t wonder where Grantaire was. The last time he saw him he was in the back of the café with a rather flustered looking girl, not that Enjolras cared.

Enjolras jumped as a hand clapped itself down on his shoulder with more force than was friendly, he turned abruptly to look upon the man he was sharing the cell with. His clothes were all black, jeans, t-shirt and jacket all pristine apart from dried blood here and there. His hair was dark, glossy and perfectly styled which was strange considering the fact that the man had clearly been beaten up. Who manages to keep hair that perfect after a beating? Enjolras tried not to think about how he must look now- clothes covered in blood, hair messy and probably covered in whatever was on the street where he dropped, face swollen in places. This man still looked like he could go and model for one of those magazines that Courfeyrac seemed to love. Not that Enjolras ever looked in those magazines.

Meeting Enjolras’ eyes the man smiled, all white and dazzling, and let out a whistle. “There must be a god if I get to spend the night with you, am I being rewarded for something little angel?”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes and bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to not lose his temper at the patronising bastard he apparently had to deal with. He fucking hated spending nights in the cells.

“I suggest you get your hands off me.”

The man smirked and looked Enjolras up and down, his face a picture of amusement. Slowly he moved his hand away from his shoulder and rested it next to Enjolras’ thigh, leaning on it as he shifted forwards, his face only inches away. Swallowing hard under the tension of the closeness Enjolras had to strain his ears to hear what came next from the man’s chapped lips.

“If you knew who I was you wouldn’t be so bold”

“Tell me who you are then” Enjolras deadpanned, not in the slightest intimidated by this man, he had received plenty of threats in his life.

“Forgive me,” The man bowed his head curtly “The name’s Montparnasse and I’ll be tonight’s entertainment.” He grinned wickedly before leaning even closer and whispering finally into Enjolras’ ear “Grantaire has told me a lot about you”

Enjolras snapped himself backwards at the mention of Grantaire’s name. Who was this man? What had Grantaire said? He looked at him, that fucking smirk and the way he just lounged there, waiting for response as he licked at his lips.

“What has he said?”

That fucking smirk.

“He tells me you were involved but decided that you should take a break. Broke his heart just a little, you should thank me, I helped pull him together. Of course, I had to take him apart a little as well, such a waste to leave him feeling so… Needy” Montparnasse uttered the last word as if it was a game, something that he could twist his tongue around. Enjolras hated him. He hated Grantaire. Why didn’t he just understand that it was only temporary? He just needed to focus on other things for a while. He wasn’t the only one in need. Enjolras was hurting just as much. He missed the touches as much as Grantaire would. Fuck this was entirely his fault.

“Liar” The word left his lips before he realised how pathetic and desperate it sounded. He knew this man had no reason to lie. He didn’t know Grantaire though. Not anymore. What did he really mean to him? Why would he go to this man rather than just communicate?

“I could prove it. He gets quite open when he’s upset; I have some pretty delicious pictures. Did you ever get to take pictures? Make a little movie? You should really know he’ll moan like such a good little slut when he’s being filmed. He’s quite the performer. Or I could tell you how he arches his back when he comes, the way he trembles afterwards. Maybe you want me to tell you how much he loves having his hair pulled, the way he’ll groan when you pull the curls that spill onto the back of his neck.”

Enjolras finds himself doing something he didn’t entirely justify before the action occurred. Without thinking and with the intention of both removing Grantaire from this man’s mouth and releasing the anger that is slowly piling up, Enjolras slams his lips into the other man’s and clashes with teeth and hands clutching his shirt.

Fuck Grantaire.

Fuck breaks.

Fuck his pathetic loyalty.

Fuck Montparnasse.

Within moments the other man is pushing into Enjolras with as much power as the initial attack had, they are crashing, pulling at the fronts of shirts and hair and biting, licking, groaning into each other. Enjolras took Montparnasse’s pause for breath as the perfect excuse to attack his pale throat, leaving angry marks that caused the man to hiss and jump in surprise before allowing himself to adjust to the stinging and focus more on using his own mouth.

“You’re such a fucking slut. Look at you, find out I’m fucking your boyfriend and rather than be upset you’re getting even? You guys are perfect for each other. Two dirty little—“  
Everything dissolved into a moan as Enjolras forced his hands down Montparnasse’s trousers and wrapped his fingers round him, pumping once, twice.  
“Don’t fucking talk” He hissed. Looking up at the man and feeling nothing but lust. He didn’t want to care right now. He didn’t want to hear. He just needed to act without thinking for once; it seems to work for everyone else. Montparnasse decided not to argue apparently and just pushed Enjolras’ head down.

“Well you better at least make it worth it.”

Enjolras wanted to make this asshole powerless under him. He wanted to turn him into a shaking mess. 

Pulling the jeans from his hips, Enjolras ran his eyes over the length of Montparnasse. He was bigger than Grantaire, not by much but enough that Enjolras was unsure of how well he would be able to handle the difference. God, the thought of it hitting the back of his throat was making him harder than he’d like to admit, it really had been a while.

 

Montparnasse couldn’t stop the sigh escaping his lips as the fairer boy licked at the wet spot on his underwear, he didn’t expect this result from the teasing but, god, he was pretty fucking pleased with himself. These guys were so fucking easy, that’s what love does he supposed. Looking down he gripped the boy’s hair and tugged a little, watching him close his eyes and moan before resuming his licking. The warmth and friction was unbearable, this layer had to be removed but every time he tried to hook his thumbs into the waistband his bloodied schoolboy pushed him back.

“Fuck- Enjolras I-I need to- Fucking hell just hurry”

At this the boy ran his tongue up the entire length of his cock, circling at the head before pulling away and pulling him out of this tiresome underwear. He didn’t remember when exactly his shirt was thrown aside but he was pissed that he was the only one naked here. Before Enjolras could get back to his previous engagement Montparnasse tugged him up by his hair and snarled into his ear “Get those fucking clothes off before I rip them off.”

Enjolras obliged more quickly than he thought he would and he could do nothing but watch as he stripped, revealing sharp bones and toned definition in all the right places. Finally he took off his own boxers and revealed just how he was feeling. Montparnasse stood and backed him into the wall, pinning his arms above his head and watching the boy raise his chin to offer his neck. He could barely keep himself from breathing profanities on his skin, his breath causing goosebumps and shivers that apparently all sent their energy to one place in particular.

“You look so fucking good, you know that? I want to fuck you. You’ll never be able to be with anyone else once you’ve had me; I’m going to do things you’ll never forget with that body. Why don’t you just stay with me after all of this is over? Come be a good little plaything” Enjolras moaned and bucked his hips, his cock rubbing against Mont’s leg and leaving a trail of precum, seemingly satisfied with the friction he continued moving, gasping when The darker man took them both in his hand and began moving them together, slicked by both their own arousal and Enjolras’ mouth. That mouth which was now making the most obscene sounds.

Fuck.

Montparnasse knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on too much longer, his abdomen was already coiling itself in that oh-so familiar way, but there was no way he was going to come like this. He knew just how he wanted it. With his fingers curled into the back of Enjolras’ hair he pushed downwards, watching the boy stumble, stunned by the sudden force, and then oblige and get to his knees. It was only seconds before he was between his lips again and thrusting into the wet heat there, making the boy gag and moan around him, and after a few more thrusts and a moan he couldn’t stop he came down the boy’s throat, watching as he swallowed greedily. How long had it even been for him? Shaking, he let Enjolras stand and kissed him hungrily, tasting himself of his lips and tongue. He was thrusting again as they kissed, seeking more contact and friction, and Montparnasse found himself giving in and stroking him just to hear the way he let out soft cries and choked sighs. He really was as beautiful as Grantaire had said, a bit hopeful and naïve maybe but still damn attractive, hell, if he were to see him in the street he might even think him to be a girl.

Now he watched as the boy leant against the cold wall of the cell, biting his lip and rutting into his palm, his golden hair covered in blood and dirt and faint purple bruises flowering on his cheekbone. He watched more intently as he began to shake slightly, his legs almost giving out under him as he released over their abdomens and Montparnasse’s hand, his lips forming nothing but a soft “fuck”.

After the men had cleaned themselves up, neither saying a word to the other, they crawled into the cots that were provided and laid separately, a first for Enjolras and a routine for Montparnasse. Enjolras found himself feeling a little empty but reassured himself that it meant nothing and therefore there was no reason to feel upset. He decided to just sleep until the guards eventually poured him back into the streets in however many hours.

 

“Wakey wakey sweetheart, someone’s come to get you” The guard’s voice was harsh against the remains of Enjolras’ tattered dreams but he found himself rousing and padding into the reception where he would meet whoever was going to bring him home- usually Combeferre.

“Hey.” The voice was soft, a little awkward and undeniably horrific.

“Grantaire. What are you doing here?”

“I missed you and didn’t want you to have to spend the night here, Combeferre is looking after Courfeyrac in hospital”

“Oh.” Enjolras tried to look at him with something other than guilt. Why the fuck did he have to be here just hours after what he had done?

Still, Enjolras walked with him through the doors and into the busy streets once more, completely invisible to most until he wanted to be seen. He didn’t feel any pain when Grantaire curled their fingers together. He didn’t want to throw up when he looked at him with so much love. What happened meant nothing he told himself over and over.

“I love you, please be careful next time.” Grantaire whispered as he left him at the front door of his apartment. Enjolras just went to bed and cried.


End file.
